‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. It does not matter to him either way. You don’t know the thoughts we have; the things we can do and say. One of the reasons why I left Paris and came to London was because there was a man there who wanted me to marry him. Wood. ‘Very wise,’ commented Gerald. Listen.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIxOC4yMTIuMTAyIC0gMzAtMDktMjAyNCAyMToxMzowNSAtIDE1NDc5MzgzNjE=
This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 26-09-2024 04:07:08